Shades of Gray
by silverfirelizard53
Summary: A mysterious dark wizard is on the loose and it's Harry's job to stop him. Meanwhile at Hogwarts, a new Dueling Team is formed and Teddy Lupin is in charge. When the team is announced and there are big surprises as to who made it, the second generation must face a difficult decision. What's more important: family or personal achievement? Can love survive when darkness rises?
1. A New Job

A/N: I've been trying to rework this story. I can't promise that I will devote a ton of time to it, but my intention is to eventually finish. Thank you for reading! Reviews are wonderful.

**O N E**

**A New Job**

Teddy Lupin wasn't sure which was more embarrassing: the fact that he had been called to Professor Adder's office, or the fact that he had been called five years after he had graduated from Hogwarts. Sitting in the deep maroon armchair that stood before the mahogany desk, Teddy couldn't help but wonder whether they had called him back due to a mistake in his transcript. Had he been incorrectly graded in an important class? He was now well within his second year of being an Auror, and he had passed through the training with absolutely no difficulties. Was he about to receive some news that would throw a wrench into his future plans?

The young professor ran a hand through his sand-colored hair, looking somewhat preoccupied with things that were beyond the information that he was to deliver. Teddy Lupin couldn't help but be reminded of the first and only other time he had been called to this office. It had been during his fifth year, when he had been caught making out with the lovely and flirtatious Miranda Jennings. It had been Professor Adder's first year teaching, and that only incident had been enough for Teddy to know that you didn't cross the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He took his job seriously, which was probably why he had been promoted to Head of the Slytherin House and Deputy Headmaster. Talk of the town was that he was to be the next Head of Hogwarts, but Teddy was still unsure whether Hogwarts was ready for another Slytherin leader.

"Mr. Lupin," Professor Adder said, speaking in the voice that Teddy always associated with sand paper, "I've invited you here to offer you a job at Hogwarts."

A mixture of sudden relief and confusion swirled within the younger man. He was pleased that there had been nothing wrong with his transcript, but Teddy wondered why he, of all people, was being offered a job. The school year was just about to start, and from what he had gathered from his godfather's three school-age children, there had been no teaching positions that needed to be filled. Besides, Teddy Lupin was an Auror, not a teacher.

"A job?" he asked uncertainly.

Professor Adder stroked his neatly-trimmed beard and examined him, though not without his usual hint of Slytherin haughtiness. Teddy felt uncomfortable. He respected the man well enough, but there was still the question of whether Adder himself had chosen Teddy for this surprise job offer or if he was just the messenger.

"Yes. I'm offering you a job, a position, or whatever you want to call it. It's not a big one, so you don't have to quit your current job as an Auror."

Teddy, whose mouth had been open to address that same issue, fell silent and settled for looking politely curious.

Adder continued. "Do you know how old I am?"

"Errr…"

"I'm exactly thirty-four years old. I know you're probably wondering why I'm sharing this sort of information, but it's important because it would have me at twelve when your godfather defeated the Dark Lord."

Teddy had not known this.

"Now, I have to admit that to a first year at Hogwarts, his triumph was very impressive. Your godfather is an often used topic in my teachings, and I'm not ashamed to admit that his knowledge of Defense Against the Dark Arts would far surpass my own. That is why I declined the position as the instructor for the new Dueling Club at Hogwarts. I take it you've been reading the news, Mr. Lupin."

Sitting up higher in the cushioned armchair, Teddy nodded vigorously. "Yeah, I have. Are you talking about the competitive teams that have been springing up in wizarding schools across the world? It's a hit, and I've been wondering whether Hogwarts would do the same."

"Professor McGonagall has given the okay to start up. We posted fliers throughout the school last semester, and a lot of students seem to be interested. They've heard about that Canadian school's victory over Durmstrang, and it's acted as a catalyst. I think Hogwarts would benefit from some outside notoriety, don't you think?"

"And you want me to lead it?" spluttered the younger man, half torn between the desire to lead a team to victory and the sheer pressure of it.

"Well," said Professor Adder, looking somewhat bemused, "The teachers and I have decided that you are the best candidate. You had top marks when you were student, you're an Auror, and your godfather is the Boy-Who-Lived. You were pretty much destined to be amazing at dueling."

Teddy's heart sank slightly. "Are you only asking me because Harry turned down the position?"

"He recommended you, though," came the short reply.

He had known that he should've looked past all the honorable remarks from the Slytherin Professor, but it still stung to know that he had been the second choice. As much as Teddy loved Harry like a father, it was still tough to be within his intimidating shadow. It was hard to strive to be like somebody when that person had already done more amazing feats than could be imagined. The only thing that Teddy was able to do better than his godfather was disguising himself, but that was only because he had inherited the metamorphmagus ability from his late mother. Even now, Teddy's hair was a bright, winter-y blue.

"What exactly does this position consist of?"

The professor looked relieved to see that Teddy was not too offended. "Well, you will get paid for your troubles. You can schedule practices on whatever days you'd like, but it must be a reasonable amount considering the sheer prestigious task you're accepting. You will also have to attend their competitions, of course. I will tell you more if you give a definite answer as to whether you're interested."

He looked at his former professor and saw the competitive gleam in his gray eyes. The older man wanted Hogwarts to win, and Teddy knew that that in itself was a compliment towards him.

"What did you say?" Victoire asked, casting aside the magazine she had been reading. She was sitting cross-legged on their bed, her beautiful strawberry-blond hair spilling down her neck and curling comfortably against her blue pajamas. Her eyes were gazing intently toward the doorway of their bathroom, where her fiancé was busy brushing his teeth. He leaned back into her field of view, toothbrush sticking comically out of his mouth.

"What?"

She rolled her eyes as toothpaste dribbled down his chin. "You were telling me about Professor Adder's job offer, and I want to know what your answer was."

His head ducked back behind the door, and she heard him spit and rinse his mouth. Then Teddy Lupin exited the bathroom wearing nothing but a t-shirt and his boxers. He sat down heavily on the edge of their bed. "I told him yes."

Victoire's mouth dropped. "Why? Did you even think to ask me? I'm your fiancée!"

His hair was no longer blue, and his eyes were their usual somber brown. Teddy reached for Victoire's arm, but she drew away, looking cross. "Vic, I considered you in my reasoning. I figured we could use the extra money. We might be able to afford a better house now."

"But now we can't have the wedding anytime soon," she sighed.

"I know, but it will be a good wedding when it does come," came his reply. "And I promise I won't let this become too serious. I mean, it's just a small job with a bunch of kids. What harm could be done?"

He kissed her pretty little face, and she gave in underneath his touch. "Sometimes I think you're too much like the Weasleys and Potters for your own good. You have a knack of finding the noblest yet most inconvenient route possible."

Teddy just put a finger to her lips, and pushed her back onto the pillows of their bed. They would talk about his new job later perhaps. Right now, she smelled like apples and her skin felt like satin. He turned off the lights with a wave of his wand.


	2. Happy Birthday

**T W O**

**Happy Birthday**

Harry Potter was going gray.

Although it wasn't yet very obvious, it was still rather disconcerting to the once "boy-who-lived" to see the streaks of silver among the jet black hair atop his head. He had only first noticed it that morning, and that sign of his own mortality put a huge damper on his mood. It had been twenty-four years since the defeat of Voldemort, but this was the first time that Harry had to look critically at himself in the mirror and admit the cold hard truth.

He was getting old.

Leaning back in his chair, Harry glanced at the photographs that had accumulated on or around his desk. Of course, there was a nostalgic photo of him, Ron, and Hermione in Hogwarts robes, but it had been dominated by a multitude of pictures depicting his (and what a beautiful word it was) family. Ginny was still as gorgeous as she was the day he married her, and their three children had become his whole world. There were also pictures of countless redheaded nieces, nephews, in-laws and godchildren to complete this picture, no pun intended, of perfection.

"Harry," said a voice, jostling him back to the present. He ran a hand through his already unkempt hair in an attempt to hide the gray, and then spun his chair to face the person standing in the doorway of his office. It was Barney Leo, one of the Aurors in his division.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Your shift ended a while ago."

Harry glanced at the papers on his desk that he had been somewhat organizing. It had been awhile since he had actually paid them any attention, and he quickly shuffled them into a drawer. "I guess I'm leaving now."

"Good, because you put in too many hours as it is."

Packing his stuff up into his briefcase, Harry stood and threw his cloak over his shoulders. Barney watched him from the doorway as though making sure that he was actually going to leave, and then stepped aside to let the Head Auror by.

"Have a good rest of the day, Barney," Harry said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Happy Birthday, Harry Potter."

Grinning, Harry continued on toward the lift.

Rose's knees ached from crouching down between her two cousins. They had been sitting here in the dark for the better part of fifteen minutes, and she had long since regretted her decision to wear a dress that night. It was so like her Uncle Harry to be late to his own surprise birthday party. His mind was hardly ever in the present moment, and if he wasn't preoccupied with work, it was some other mind-consuming task. Not that Uncle Harry would ever purposely skip a party thrown by his own family for him, but he probably vastly underestimated just how many people they had actually invited.

However, that was the intent. Aunt Ginny was convinced that Uncle Harry thought they were spending a quiet evening in The Three Broomsticks with just his family and Rose's family. In reality, they had rented out the entire pub and invited over fifty people, including all sorts of redhead relatives, colleagues, and old friends. They had not originally planned to throw a party for his forty-second birthday, but with children getting older and families drifting apart, they figured now was a better time than ever.

Aunt Ginny and Rose's mum had planned the whole thing.

By this time, Rose was amazed by her patience. As much as she loved her cousin Al, his occasional sighs of frustration made her want to smack him upside the head. He was hunched down beside her, rubbing his sore kneecaps with an annoyed expression on his face. The spitting image of her Uncle Harry, Al was thin and lanky, with dark hair and green eyes. He and Rose had been nearly inseparable since birth. In fact, they even shared the same birthday. Their mothers liked to share the tale to anyone who hadn't heard it twenty times before.

"Someone's coming!" Aunt Ginny said in a carrying whisper. They all prepared themselves.

The bell on the door chimed as someone walked through the door. "SURPRISE!"

Everyone in the pub jumped up as the lights flickered on. However, it was not Uncle Harry who stood in the doorway. Laughter erupted as Rose's Uncle George hurried in, looking wildly amused. The dusty light from the overhead lamps cast his lopsided features into strange shadows. Now more than ever, his missing ear looked more bizarre than Rose had ever seen it, and she had never known him with both ears.

"GEORGE!" yelled Al and Rose's grandmother. "How dare you have the nerve to show up late to Harry's birthday party? You should apologize to all these people!"

George rolled his eyes, and moved over to join his wife behind the bar counter. "Keep your hat on, woman. No harm done."

Just then, the door chimed once more.

"Surprise?" said Rose's littlest cousin, Roxanne.

Uncle Harry looked overwhelmed by the number of people gathered for his birthday. He opened his mouth as though he was going to speak, but then thought better of it and settled for smiling politely. Uncle George was the first to start laughing.

"Why are you laughing? You ruined it, George!" shouted their grandma, waving her finger at him.

"Because it's funny!"

"Don't worry, Molly," said Uncle Harry, walking over to embrace Aunt Ginny. "I'm still very much surprised."

"Happy Birthday!" shouted a few of Uncle Harry's already drunk coworkers. The rest of the family chimed in with delighted expressions. Now that they were sufficiently over the shock of Uncle Harry's arrival, a crowd of people swarmed forward for well-wishing. Madame Rosemertta started passing out butterbeer and copious amounts of finger food, much to the delight of the younger kids. Knowing that there would be plenty of time later to wish her uncle a happy birthday, Rose and Al disappeared into the back room where Louis, Molly, Fred, and Hugo were gathered. They were already well into a plate of ham and turkey sandwiches, and Al gratefully helped himself.

"Why was your dad so late?" asked Molly, her sharp brown eyes peering over the glasses under her wavy ginger hair.

"I dunno," replied Al, his mouth disgustingly full.

"Better than my dad," chimed Fred. "Hell, he owns his shop and still manages to show up late even though he's got an army of people who'll do whatever he wants."

"Yeah, well, Uncle Harry is the Head Auror. He pretty much has the same situation. Isn't there like more than a hundred people reporting to him?"

Rose rolled her eyes at Molly's prissiness. "Yes, but that probably means he's always covering for somebody. My dad's the second in command and we can't even sit through an entire meal without someone buzzing him."

"It's true," seconded Rose's little brother Hugo. "It seems like every time we go to a Chuddley Cannons game, somebody's corrupted teapot got loose and is running around in the streets of London."

Louis laughed. "Well, you're not missing much because the Chuddley Cannons never win."

"Shut up, you prick."

"Speaking of Quidditch..." started Fred, his eyes suddenly bright. "Gryffindor is looking pretty good this year."

Rose and Al groaned audibly.

"Do we HAVE to talk about Quidditch?" Molly asked, looking remarkably like her father, their Uncle Percy. "Everybody knows Gryffindor practically cheats."

"Do not!"

She tilted her nose upward in a sickly punctual way. "Come on. It's pretty much rigged. The team is made up almost entirely of our family."

Rose, who did not care much for the sport, had already noticed this. Hugo played as Keeper, Fred played as one of the Beaters, Lily played as Seeker, and James (who was also captain) played as one of the Chasers. There was a cruel rumor that their family had bought out the Gryffindor house, but it was not without sustainable reason. Out of the twelve children that made up the second generation, only two were not in Gryffindor. Molly was a proud Ravenclaw, while Al, who was doing his best to ignore the conversation altogether, was in Slytherin. Neither of them played Quidditch, and it was more for their own safety. Hugo, Fred, Lily, and James took the sport very seriously. They weren't the only ones either. Rose's Aunt Ginny had played professionally, and most of her uncles played for recreation.

Rose sought talents elsewhere.

"We can't help it that we're so good!" Hugo said, giving Fred a high-five, much to Molly's chagrin.

"Oh, please," she sniffed.

A newcomer walked into the room, and they turned to face him. It was Teddy, his festive hair a gleaming shade of gold. He was smiling at them in his usual cheery manner, a glass of firewhiskey in his hand. They were all incredibly fond of Teddy; he was like a big brother.

"Rose, Al, and Fred, can I talk to you a sec?" he said, gesturing to another room in the back. They immediately stood and made to follow him.

"Have you and my sister set a date for the wedding yet?" Louis shouted after.

Teddy chuckled. "Go jump in a hole, Lou."

The only other person in the new room was Al's older brother. Although dark haired, James resembled the Weasley side of the family rather than his famous father. He was shorter than Al, and somewhat stockier, but the very way he carried himself gave the impression of strength, intelligence, and talent. He was also very handsome, and many of the girls at Hogwarts adored him. Rose always found their fantasies as rather pathetic, but she loved her older cousin nonetheless. He was a very selfless person.

Teddy closed the door behind them, muffling the sounds of the party. "You guys are all going into your sixth and seventh years, right?"

"Gee, Teddy," said Fred sarcastically. "You used to babysit us. You don't know how old we are?"

"There's twelve of you. Be thankful I remember your names."

James laughed. "It's okay, Teddy. I forget how old Fred is too, sometimes. You're six, right?"

"Very funny, smart ass."

"Thank you," said Teddy, cutting off James' retort. "What I'm going to say I don't want you to repeat just yet. It hasn't been sent out in the mail.

"What is it?" Al asked.

"Hogwarts is starting a dueling team and I'm the teacher."

There faces split into similar grins. Teddy looked satisfied by their reactions, and continued, "I'm telling you this because I want you to be there at tryouts and I'm not going to be around much over the next month. It'll be the second week of school. I don't have any say over who makes the team, but I'd really like to be working with some familiar faces, just so it isn't completely awkward."

"I'd bet you'd be an awesome teacher," Rose interjected.

"Thank you," Teddy responded, a hint of nervousness in his voice. "I'd still like you there. I bet all four of you could make the team."

They expressed their excitement, but Rose remember, with a slight degree of guilt, what Molly had said minutes before. Would it really be fair if all four of them made it?


	3. Young Miss May

**THREE**

**Young Miss May**

To say that Al and his older brother didn't get along was an understatement. They fought quite a lot, and it was usually about nothing. Even when they were really little, their parents had to keep them separated for fear of James overpowering the much scrawnier Albus in one of their sibling brawls. When Al was seven, they broke out in a fight at one of the family Christmas parties, and wound up wrestling underneath the dining room table. James broke Al's arm, and Uncle Percy lectured their rather flustered father on the proper techniques to raise children the entire rest of the night. Their grandmother often said that having two boys a year apart would of course lead to sibling rivalry, but Al knew that two such different people shouldn't rub shoulders on a daily basis.

It was two days after their father's birthday party, and James was getting ready to go out for the fifth time that week. Although nearly ten o'clock in the morning, Al had just woken up and was not yet past the groggy stage of his morning. Their father was upstairs, sleeping after pulling a double shift the night before.

"If you weren't always in such a bad mood, you might actually open your eyes and appreciate the fact that other people have lives," James said sourly.

"Excuse me?" Al asked, abandoning the newspaper he had been trying to read. "Goddammit, James, you know dad asked us to clean out the attic today. Are you going to make me do it all without magic?"

James' face was smug. "It builds character."

"It will take me like five hours!"

"Shouldn't have slept in so late."

"Fuck you."

"Are you guys fighting again?" asked Lily as she walked into the kitchen where they were. Their little sister was dressed to go outside, her long red hair tied into a ponytail. She wore leather gloves, carried a broomstick, and was obviously on her way to their grandparents' house with the big yard.

"Oh, shut up and go play Quidditch," snapped Al.

The eldest brother made an angry noise. "Don't talk to her like that."

"Oh, I'm okay, James. At least I can play Quidditch."

"You know what? Fuck you, too."

Before either James or Lily could retort, there was the sound of stairs creaking overhead. Al's bad mood escalated.

"Good job, genius," said Lily with her nose in the air. "You woke dad up."

"Thanks. He's going to be pissed," seconded James.

Their father definitely did not appear to be in chipper spirits when he entered the kitchen, but he did not say anything. His look of irritation explained everything. His green eyes were swollen behind his glasses, and he needed to shave. Snatching up Al's discarded newspaper, he sat down, and disappeared behind it.

"Can I make you some toast, dad?" asked Lily in a sweet voice, setting down her broomstick and peeling off the gloves.

James and Al gave her a thunderous look.

"Yeah," he said, his voice tired. "But all three of you are going up and cleaning the attic today. No magic," he added with a stern look at James.

"But it was Al who―"

"I don't care who it was. I'm just punishing you three for bickering like a bunch of Cornish Pixies."

James glared at Al, who merely shrugged and sat down. Lily continued to make toast, but it was with much pointless slamming and sniffs of anger. The awkward space of time stretched on for a couple minutes.

"About what time did your mother leave for wor-"

Their dad's voice trailed off as something bright and silver soared through the kitchen window and onto the table. Al had only seen it a few times before, but he immediately recognized the patronus as his Uncle Ron's. It was a small terrier dog, with short fur and gleaming eyes. When it spoke, it was his uncle's voice that sounded.

"Harry, so sorry, we need you at work now. It's an emergency."

The dog evaporated into thin air, leaving nothing behind but a curious trace of silver. Instant chaos erupted. Al's father sprung out of his chair, the forgotten newspaper falling from his lap onto the floor. Where earlier he had appeared tired and overworked, a look of stern resolution formed on the older man's face. Not for the first time, Al wondered if his father was ever afraid of anything, or if the action of throwing himself into possible danger had been so deeply ingrained into Harry Potter's mind that he did it now without thinking. It was rather impressive, almost scary.

"Lily, go find me a set of clean robes," he said as he pulled his wand from the waistband of his pajamas. "James, get me my badge. Albus, find my shoes."

Lily scurried to the laundry room to find their house-elf, Peachy, while James and their father both apparated upstairs with two loud consecutive pops. Al glanced over by the kitchen stairs where his father left his shoes almost every night.

Lily and the tiny Peachy ran back into the room, a pair of freshly laundered robes tucked under the redhead's arm. Their father appeared a second later, a pile of files he had been meaning to sort stacked precariously in his hands. Al grabbed the stack while his dad yanked the robes that had been given to him over his pajamas. Lily took the now slightly burnt toast and crammed it into her father's mouth.

"'Hoos?" he asked Al through bulging cheeks as he buttoned up the black material.

Al gestured to them on the ground.

James reappeared with their father's badge, which shined golden in the light of their cozy kitchen. He pinned it on while the Head Auror attempted to slip his shoes onto the wrong feet in his hurry.

"Thanks, guys," their dad said, and then he grabbed the stack from Al's arms and disapparated.

For a few moments, there was silence.

James looked pleased. "See you."

"Yeah, have fun with the attic, Al," Lily said as she grabbed her broomstick back off the floor.

"You're kidding me, right?"

But they had already hurried from the room.

As Harry hurried into his office, he was quite conscious of the fact that underneath his dark robes, he wore nothing more than sweatpants and an old t-shirt. He was sure nobody would particularly notice, or care, but as a rather young Auror Head, he still preferred to look the part. Ron came running to meet him, his hair, although thinning, still as brightly red as the day Harry first met him on the train. The once boy-who-lived was not altogether reassured to see the look of concern on his best friend's face.

"I'm really sorry to get you up, Harry," Ron said, slightly breathless.

"No, I was already up. What's the problem?"

Ron handed him a brand new file, indicating that a new case of reported dark magic had been opened. Harry thumbed through the blank sheets of paper that had yet to be filled, before coming to rest on the very first page. It was just the basics of the case.

"You sent the hit wizards out already?" he asked, glancing at an address that was only thirty minutes away from his house by car.

They passed a few other Aurors, who nodded to them in greeting. "Yeah," said Ron. "They said the coast is clear, and they are waiting for us."

"Murder?"

"Yeah, her name is Emily May, and she was about twenty-one. Her grandmother found her. The poor old woman is in shock. It's pretty bad, Harry."

Mentally preparing himself, Harry entered a room where a small team of Aurors had already gathered. He was pleased to see that Teddy, although still a newbie, had been allowed to come. The young man gave his godfather a nervous smile, and Harry winked in return. Although Harry was somewhat biased, he considered Teddy to be quite a prodigy and couldn't wait till the boy officially worked beside him.

"Alright, you know the drill," Harry said, and they all left for the house in question.

His first impression of the place was that it was a small and humble-looking home, quite like a sleepy cat with its paws tucked under. Tall trees towered around the tiny brick structure, and ivy climbed the walls to the windows. It appeared to be a rather old house, and Harry wondered whether his victim had inherited it just as he had inherited his house many years ago. Flashes of what Grimmauld Place looked like before he had fixed it up crossed his mind as he and the other Aurors walked up to it. Ron fell into stride beside him, and his face was grim and set. Teddy was right behind them, respectively silent.

One of the hit wizards hurried up to Harry, who had to rack his brain to remember the man's name. It was Charlie Arnold, and Harry offered his hand in greeting. The other man shook it and nodded to the rest of Harry's small team.

"Harry Potter, please find this person. This kind of dark magic isn't tolerated."

"I'll do my best," replied Harry. "Is it really that bad?"

For an answer, Charlie Arnold held the front door open and led them inside. At once, the metallic smell of blood hit Harry like a bludger, and he suppressed a cough. Apprehension bubbled in his chest, and he drew his wand as he ventured deeper into the house. It would have been a normally quaint and pleasantly decorated house, but much of the furniture had been overturned and glass cabinets had been shattered. He hoped this young woman had put up a struggle. It might make identifying the dark wizard that much easier.

"Look at this, Harry," said Ron in a hushed voice, gesturing to a patch of splattered blood on the wall.

"Keep going," said Charlie Arnold. "It gets worse."

They continued on to the next room, and Harry had to close his eyes a second just to keep a level head. Blood was splashed on the once clean walls and the couch. It had also pooled into the carpet, shiny and sickly. There was a faint outline of where a body had once lain.

"Oh my―" said one of Harry's team.

The Head Auror turned to see what the man was looking at and found himself momentarily speechless. A memory popped before his eyes as vividly as it had been the day it happened. He was a frightened little second year, looking up at a wall that had "the Chamber of Secrets is open again...Enemies of the heir, beware" written in a bright red substance.

"'She deserved it. I'm the victim. Save me'," Teddy read aloud in a shaky whisper.

Anger rose up in Harry's mouth like bile, but he suppressed it with difficulty. There would be time later to regret the crime. Studying the bloody message, Harry noticed there was a signature. It was nothing more than a simple triangle.

"McKinney, Davis," Harry ordered, "get pictures of everything in this room. Arnold, show me where the body is."

Charlie Arnold led him out through the back door, and Ron and Teddy obediently followed close behind them. They passed a few other hit wizards who were milling about in an awkward silence. The back garden was incredibly lovely, with fresh flowers growing along the fence line. May had obviously enjoyed gardening, and Harry couldn't help but wonder whether his friend Neville had taught her in Herbology.

They were led through the garden gate with a broken lock, and Harry felt intense sadness at the sight of the young witch huddled against the bare side of the gate wall in the cold hands of death. She was barely recognizable as a human. Bloody, mangled, and undressed, the Head Auror felt inclined to cover her indecency. There was blood staining her fawn-colored hair.

"I think I might be sick," mumbled Teddy.

Harry tore his attention from the girl to his godson, who had gone green in the face. They had been exposed to graphic material before, and Harry wondered why this had such a strong effect on Teddy. Of course, there was always one case that newbies had to overcome emotionally before being able to face the job with a straight head. The older man went over and placed a hand on the boy's back.

"She reminds me of Victoire."

"It's okay, Put your head down by your knees and take a few deep breaths."

Teddy obliged and moved over to the wall where he did not have to face the body of Emily May. Harry looked back to her with a critical eye, hoping to divulge the secrets of her killer. It was his job to catch the dark wizards who deserved to be punished.

"Harry," said Ron, whose freckles were more prominent than usual. "This looks like―"

"―Sectumsempra, I know."

"Then was this done by a former Death Eater?"

"Possibly," Harry replied, who knew very well that there were a few Death Eaters still at large. "Or a victim or someone exposed to the spell by a Death Eater."

"But Snape invented this spell. It's going to be pretty limited as to who knows this."

"I understand."

Ron glanced back at Charlie Arnold, who was watching curiously, and lowered his voice. "How do you suggest we find this person? Through our back―"

"No," Harry said quickly. "Not unless we have more information. Proceed like normal."

Ron straightened up, and went over to get the person who would be analyzing the body. Harry looked around her form, carefully overturning her in search of her wand. He did not find it anywhere near her.

"Ted, are you okay?" Harry asked, looking up from the victim.

"Yeah, I'm okay, Harry."

"Good, I need you to search the house and the yard for her wand. We need to see if she fought back."

"Yes, sir."

Harry then left Emily May's body to go back in the house. He wanted to examine the message on the wall a little more closely. There was that disconcerting feeling within him that he had seen that triangle before. Regardless of whatever it meant, Harry knew that there would be a few sleepless nights until he found whoever it was that did this.

_She deserved it. I'm the victim. Save me._

_Δ_


	4. Practice Makes Perfect

**F O U R**

**Practice Makes Perfect**

"You're going to get us into trouble."

Rose glanced at her younger brother Hugo, noting as she did so how very much alike they were in appearance. When they were younger, their mother often said that they were cute enough to be in Muggle TV commercials. Tall, blue-eyed, freckled, and with curly hair the color of a setting sun, they were easily remembered. Unfortunately for Rose, however, she had stopped growing and every day Hugo was getting closer and closer to surpassing her in height. It was an unnerving thought.

"We're fine," she told him as he hovered nervously near the door that led up from their basement. "There's no way we could get caught. Mum and Dad aren't expected to be home for quite awhile."

"Are you sure, Rosie?" asked Al, who was spending the day at their house. "Exactly how does the Trace work?"

Rose smiled, twirling her wand from one hand to the next. She enjoyed her ability to answer questions correctly. After all, she was Hermione Granger Weasley's daughter. "The Trace is what they put on underage wizards to enforce the law against using magic outside of school before the age of seventeen. It's only activated by setting, though, to keep young kids from exposing us before we're old enough to fully understand why. Meaning, if we were to go out in the Muggle world and cast some spells, we would be caught almost immediately because there is no other magic to cover us up. It's a different story at home."

"So you mean, we could technically use magic if we grew up in a wizarding family and not be in trouble with the law?" Al said, somewhat angrily.

"Yeah, they rely on the parents to uphold the rule."

"Damn," came her cousin's reply. "And all this time I thought there was a legitimate reason Dad wouldn't let us practice. That completely screws over the kids who have strict parents because I bet nobody follows that rule."

Rose thought of her Mum. "It screws over the Muggle-borns, too."

She was standing tip-toe against a long row of bookshelves, running her fingers over the spines that she had come to know quite well over her sixteen years. Their basement was a mix between a library and a study, with an entire wall almost completely devoted to her mother's efforts in the S.P.E.W. movement. Today, however, Rose and Al had pushed all the furniture back against the walls.

"Mum will be freaking pissed if she finds out what you're doing," Hugo warned again. "She works in the Ministry, you know."

"I know that," said Rose a little more harshly than she had intended. "They only way she'd find out is if you told her, though."

"I should tell her. It would be for the best."

"Hugo, don't be such a prick," Al snapped.

Rose pulled a handsome cherry-colored book from among its companions and turned round to face her brother. "What would it take for you to keep this a secret?"

He considered it for a moment, his freckled face contemplating. "I'd like to practice with you."

"Fine," she said as Al made an angry noise behind her. "But you have to realize that Al and I are getting ready for Dueling Team tryouts. We'll be a little bit preoccupied."

Hugo grinned, pulling his wand from the pocket of his jeans. Being the children of the famous trio, the concept of keeping your wand on you at all times had been drilled into them from the very first day they received it. Rose drew her own, and the memory of her very first dueling lesson flashed across her mind like lightning.

_"Never, EVER, put your wand down carelessly and leave it somewhere," said her mother as they left Ollivander's Wand Shop. She looked frighteningly serious. "This is everything. Without it, you're a sitting duck. I know you probably don't want to think about this right now, but with everything we've been through the years should be enough of a lesson against the dangers of this world. It's better to be safe than sorry."_

_"Yeah," seconded her father, placing his hand upon her shoulder. "This is a big responsibility, but you're a big girl now and we trust you. We know you're not going to just leave it lying around, but we still have to be very clear. Do you understand?"_

_"I do, Daddy," she replied, and clutched the seemingly pointless wooden stick between her small hands._

Rose opened the book and thumbed through the careworn, familiar pages. It was like sharing memories with an old friend. She set it on the ground, looking through the page headers for a good spell to start with. Al bent over the book as well, curious.

"What is this?" he asked.

She flipped the book back open to the front cover where the words "A Practical Guide to Dueling and Defensive Spells" was emblazoned on the front in thick gold letters. She then pointed to the words underneath, and Al grinned when he saw "by Hermione J. Granger" in a slightly thinner font

"Exactly how many books has your mum written?" he asked.

"Quite a few, but this is her first. Look."

Rose opened to the dedication page. "This book is dedicated to Harry Potter, who showed me that there are things worth fighting for in this life," she read aloud.

They looked at it, momentarily distracted by this little Easter egg from history. The stories of her uncle's childhood were always very interesting, even if they rarely ever heard them from him directly. If there was one thing Harry Potter didn't like, it was bringing up and discussing the physical and emotional abuse that was his war against Voldemort. The funny thing was that the rest of the family loved talking about it. In fact, most of the stories Al had were from her parents. His father just couldn't open up, and Rose always wondered whether that had anything to do with how her cousin turned out.

Not that she resented the fact that he was a Slytherin. It was quite the opposite, actually. She had grown up hearing her own father's awful stories about stupid boys in green, but the minute Al was put into Slytherin, her whole opinion of it changed. How could it not? They were born on the same day, learned to crawl together, had birthday parties together, were home schooled by their grandmother together, and were going through Hogwarts together. Even their cousin Fred, who was their age, wasn't as close to them as they were to each other. In Rose's eyes, just because he was a Slytherin didn't mean they couldn't be best friends. She liked defying social norms. Before Rose went school, Gryffindors just didn't hang out with Slytherins.

"Let's practice Protego first," Rose said, flipping to the chapter. It was one of the first, and for good reason. In every chapter, her mother had written introductions, backgrounds, theories, and examples for each of the spells. Many of the stories were about how the spells had aided them in the war.

"Can I borrow this?" Al asked.

"You probably have it, I imagine."

He laughed. "Nobody reads at my house."

Rose stood up, pointing her wand at her cousin. It was obvious from her stance that she already knew how to duel fairly well. Her grip was strong, but relaxed, and her feet were planted firmly against the wooden floor. "I'll cast first. You know, just in case I'm wrong about the Trace."

"Wait, what?" asked Hugo, stunned.

"_Protego_!"

She cast a perfectly good shield charm, lighting up the room brightly for a brief moment. They then sat in tense silence for about a minute. When nothing happened, Rose gave a sly grin and gestured to the guys to stand up.

"I'll cast a spell on you and you defend yourself!"

By the time Rose's parents got home, they had already practiced dueling and cleaned up all the evidence. They were lounging in the sitting room. Al was stretched out on the couch, completely immersed in the book they had been practicing from earlier. Rose and Hugo were listening to a radio broadcast of some wizarding band.

The back door opened and Rose jumped up to greet her parents. Ron and Hermione Weasley, however, were not alone. Al, who had looked up from his book, gave his father a rare smile. The older man looked surprised to see him, hands once again completely full with papers. On top of the stack was a picture of a bloody message written on a wall. Rose noticed it immediately, her curiosity getting the best of her.

"What are you doing here, Albus?" asked her Uncle Harry, shifting aside the stack in his arms so he could take the photo and stuff it in his pocket. He had noticed Rose staring.

"I invited him," she responded for her cousin, as though nothing had just happened.

"Well, this is perfect," said Rose's mother. "You should all stay for dinner."

"Yeah, that'd be nice. Should I invite Ginny, James, and Lily?" Uncle Harry asked.

"The more, the merrier."

Hugo leaned forward and changed the radio station to a broadcast of a Quidditch game. Their father gave an excited exclamation as the Chudley Cannons were announced, and sat down on the couch beside his son. Both Rose and her mother rolled their eyes at the same time.

"No, Ron," said her Uncle Harry. "We need to discuss this. That's why I came over in the first place."

"Oh, yeah."

Rose's mother put her bag on the coffee table. "Sorry, kids, but we need to have a private moment. We're going to the basement. Be back shortly."

"Yeah, Albus, go talk to your mother and let her know the plans," added Uncle Harry.

Rose watched the three adults retreat down the stairs to the basement. She suddenly had a daring bright idea, and looked to Al. He was getting up off the couch, setting his book down on the velvet cushions. She grabbed his hand

"What are you doing?" he asked as she dragged him into the kitchen. "I've got to go contact my mum."

"You can go do that in a minute," she whispered. It was not really necessary, though. The Chudley Cannons were just then scored against, and Hugo was jumping up and down screaming obscenities. She began digging through one of their junk drawers.

"What are you looking for?" asked Al.

"This."

She held up a thin, flesh-colored string. Shutting the drawer with her hip, Rose untangled one of her Uncle George's products with quick fingers. She then pulled her cousin back toward the steps. Al had caught on by now, and looked more apprehensive than he had earlier when they were contemplating breaking the law.

"Why are we going to spy on our parents?" he asked, staring at the Extendable Ear as if it held some answer.

"Did you see what your dad was holding?"

Al shrugged. "Stuff for work?

"No, there was this weird picture."

She threaded the Extendable Ear down the stairs and under the crack in the door. Rose then huddled down beside Al, and they put their heads together to listen to the familiar voices of their parents.

"...in my office, crying her eyes out. I had no clue how to comfort that poor old woman. I must've looked like an idiot," Uncle Harry was saying.

There were curious tapping noises reverberating up form the floor, and Rose frowned at her cousin.

"Dad paces when he gets worked up," Al said in a low voice.

"Ah."

Rose's mother spoke next. "You did at least try to ease her sadness, right?"

"How though?" came his exasperated response. "I'm no where closer to finding this guy. It's been almost two weeks and Emily May's killer is still out there."

"We've been working around the clock, investigating every possibly lead," said Rose's father

"There has to be something. Maybe you overlooked something?"

"No, Hermione," said Harry slowly. "He tortured, raped, and killed her. Then he wrote on the wall with her blood, took her wand, and vanished. There was no trace that he had been there other than her dead body."

There was a silence as they stopped to think for a second. Rose could practically hear her mother's brain humming with electricity. Her father often said that Hermione Granger Weasley had chosen the wrong profession, but Rose could honestly see her mother having the talent to do just about anything. Anything except Quidditch.

"Let me see the picture," said the Muggle-born after a while.

There was another bout of silence where Rose could imagine her uncle pulling out the picture and handing it to her mother. She could almost see her mother pouring over the photo, perhaps with a book, as she tried to unravel its mysteries. Even Al looked curious now, his dark green eyes narrowed as he anxiously awaited his aunt's verdict.

"You're right," she said. "It does remind me of the Chamber of Secrets."

"But what does it mean?"

"Well, let's think of it sentence by sentence. The first part reads 'she deserved it'. Obviously, this guy has absolutely no remorse for what he's done. He doesn't see Emily May as the victim. Maybe she did deserve it. Oh, don't give me that look, Ron. I meant that maybe he saw something that Emily May did as deserving of death. This guy is obviously mentally imbalanced, so it could be anything. The next part is just a cry for help. He thinks that he needs to be saved, so he tells you in the only way he knows possible. By acting out. Now, I'm not sure whether he just wants to be saved in general, or whether it's a direct message to you, Harry."

The once boy-who-lived made a noise in his throat. "What do you mean, 'a direct message to me'?"

"Maybe he wants you to save him because he thinks you're the only one who can."

"I think this guy is just a whack-job," said Rose's father bluntly.

Back up at the top of the stairs, Rose rolled her eyes. "Why is my dad such a loser?" she asked sourly.

Al half-shrugged, half-nodded.

Uncle Harry was still talking. "What about this triangle? I swear I've seen it before, but it kind of reminds me of the Deathly Hallows symbol."

"Hang on," said her father. "That can't be right. The triangle referred to the cloak, and you passed that down to James, didn't you?

Rose glanced at her cousin, searching through his blank stare for a sign of emotion. He had been so torn up whenever his father had given James his most prized possession that Al wouldn't speak to the rest of the family for weeks. Even though that had been nearly seven years ago, the Slytherin was still sore about the whole ordeal. Rose couldn't help but secretly agree with him, even though she had inherited some of her own father's stuff. The whole rule that the first-born gets all the best stuff was quite unfair. Al's face, however, was unreadable.

"Yeah, and as far as I know, he takes excellent care of it."

"I don't think it means the Deathly Hallows at all," said Rose's mother. "In fact, and I might be wrong, I think it's referring to a Greek letter."

They heard her get up and walk across the room to the bookshelves. That was so like Rose's mother. When in doubt, consult a book. She walked back to them, and then placed the book on her desk. Rose and Al could hear the spine cracking as it was pried open.

"See that? It's called Delta.

Uncle Harry sounded confused. "That's nice, but I don't see how it refers to my case at all."

"Well, Delta is the fourth letter of the Greek Alphabet. It also refers to a river bed because the Nile River Delta formed in the shape of a triangle.

"I still don't―"

"It also means the defendant in legal shorthand, the symbol for the Greek inventor and architect Daedalus, the symbol for gene deletion in genetics, and represents change in mathematics."

"I'll keep it in mind, Hermione, thanks," said Uncle Harry with a long, tired sigh. "But I think I need to pay our friend a visit."

Rose's father sounded indignant. "I told you to do that the first day."

"I know, Ron, but I didn't want to go right at first. We do it behind the Ministry's back and it doesn't look altogether very fool-proof. It's sort of like a last resort and I think we're at that point now.

"Meaning?" asked her mother.

"Meaning I'm going to have to go pay a visit to Draco Malfoy."


End file.
